Everybody's Fool
by CassandraRoseCrane
Summary: Miranda Priestly's daughter is sick and her bumbling assistant is hovering about.


**Everybody's Fool**

An icy mix of rain and sleet had started to fall outside of the Manhattan townhouse late one night, but the girl inside was blissfully unaware of anything taking place beyond the realm of her warm home. She wondered down the hall, peering in several rooms as she did, as if looking for someone. Her search turned up nothing, so she continued her journey down the stairs.

Part of the way down the stairs, the girl noticed a light shining from the living room. Guessing that the person she was seeking could be found there, a rush of happiness came over her. Yet, something made her hold back apprehensively at the same time, as she made her way down the remainder of the stairs, once she considered how the person in the room might react to her presence.

Inside of the living room, the woman perched on the couch was also unaware of anything happening outside. Infact, she was too focused on her work to notice much of anything going on around her, whether it was taking place inside or outside of her home. However, the sound of footsteps on the stairs was enough to draw her attention from the folder laying open in her lap. She frowned when she looked at the clock above the fireplace. She had been under the impression that she was the only one in the house who was still awake.

"Mother?"

The woman's lips curled up into a small smile at the sound of the voice calling to her from the hallway. "I'm in here, Caroline," Miranda Priestly answered. She absentmindedly placed some proofs from a photo shoot back in the folder and flipped it closed as the footsteps drew closer. Eventually, a young girl with blue eyes and dark, brown hair that hung past her shoulders came to stand in the doorway of the living room. "What is it darling," she questioned her daughter. "Why aren't you in bed?"

The girl lingered in the doorway when she noticed the folder her mother was holding, not wanting to disturb her if she didn't wish to be interrupted. She understood that there were times when her mother was busy with her work, and did not wish to have her concentration broken, so the girl named Caroline was careful about how she approached her mother. She and her sister hated to disappoint their mother in any way. "I can't sleep," 

she murmured sheepishly.

Miranda detected weariness in her daughter's voice and noticed that her normally vibrant features appeared to be ashen. "Are you still feeling bad?"

Caroline nodded in answer, creeping further in the room when she heard the sympathetic tone in her mother's voice. Perhaps her mother wanted some company on that night.

"Come here, then," Miranda ordered calmly, in a much gentler tone than she normally used when giving orders to people. Caroline's face visibly brightened at the command. Miranda leaned forward to place the folder on the coffee table in front of her as Caroline stepped forward, then turned all of her attention to her daughter as the girl took a seat on the oversized couch.

Miranda flinched slightly as Caroline curled up against her side. She was not used to such open displays of affection. Though she loved her daughters very much, she found it difficult to make or accept affectionate gestures, because she had never experienced such warmth during her own childhood.

Caroline looked up in confusion when her mother pulled away. Then her shoulders drooped when she realized why Miranda had reacted the way she did. "I'm sorry, mother. Am I bothering you?" Caroline regretfully moved away from her mother, chastising herself for making her mother uncomfortable.

Despite her reservations, Miranda felt her heart melt as soon as she looked into the open, trusting eyes of her daughter. She had never been able to deny her daughters her love. Whenever possible, she lavished them with her attention and devotion, because she could not stand to think of them experiencing the same emptiness she had felt when she was a girl. If giving Caroline her attention that night meant that they would share a snuggle, she would willingly oblige.

"Of course you're not bothering me. You just startled me when you did that. But it's alright. Come back over here." Caroline did as her mother asked, and gasped softly as Miranda wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring smile. She treasured her mother's smile. Both she and her sister collected memories of their mother's smiles, storing them away in their minds the way one would store away precious jewels. Caroline returned her mother's smile, then rested gratefully in Miranda's comforting embrace, reveling in the unexpected opportunity they had to spend time together.

Miranda reached out to brush a stray strand of hair away from Caroline's face, and attempted to hide the look of alarm that suddenly rushed across her own features as she did. Miranda had realized that Caroline wasn't feeling well when she returned home from work earlier that evening and found her daughter already in her pajamas. Apparently, she hadn't realized the extent of her daughter's condition then. It was obvious from one, brief touch of her face that poor Caroline was burning with fever. She could even feel Caroline trembling.

Miranda expertly concealed her worries, so she would not frighten Caroline, as she continued to smooth the girl's hair away from her face. "I'm sorry you're not feeling well, baby. Are you cold? I think I feel you shivering."

"Yes, I am," confirmed Caroline.

"Wait here. I'll get a blanket for you." Miranda attempted to get up from the couch, but Caroline's hand caught her arm before she could.

"No. Stay here, mother. I like having you here with me."

The pleading expression on Caroline's face tugged at Miranda's heart. Did she really spend so little time with her daughters that it warranted them not wanting her to go once they did have the opportunity to spend time with her? "But you need a blanket," Miranda protested. She loosened the heated grip Caroline had on her arm, and squeezed her daughter's small hand gently in her own. "Rest here. I'll be back in just a minute. I promise."

"Okay." Caroline lay down on the couch with a sigh, to tired to argue.

Miranda removed a blanket from the hall closet. Then she went into the kitchen to use her phone. She tried to call her husband, but he was at a business dinner, and she wasn't surprised when he didn't answer his phone.

"Mother? Mother, come back, please. My head hurts. I don't like feeling this way," Caroline's voice drifted from the other room.

"I'm coming, sweetheart." Miranda assured her daughter as she poured a glass of water. Once Miranda was done, she hurried back to the living room, clutching the drink and the blanket. She found Caroline curled into a ball on the couch, still shaking helplessly. Her throat tightened with fear once she laid eyes on her daughter's fragile frame, but she willed herself to remain calm.

Mother and daughter were too distracted to hear a young woman slide inside the front door of the townhouse quietly, clutching a binder and her purse. The woman was Miranda's senior assistant, but she had been forced to take on the responsibility of delivering the Book to Miranda's house each night until the other, newly hired, assistant under her was ready for the task. Fortunately for her, dropping off the Book was one of her favorite parts of her job.

Miranda sat down on the couch beside her daughter, whose back was to her. "Caroline? I'm back, my darling. I've got some water for you. It might make you feel a little better."

Caroline became aware of her mother's presence and voice behind her through her feverish haze. "Thank you." She slowly sat up to accept the drink.

When she was finished with the water, Miranda carefully pulled Caroline on to her lap, and wrapped the blanket around her daughter's shoulders. There were so many things about her daughter that she loved, and she was reminded of them all then; the blue eyes that were very much like her own, the silken hair that smelled of raspberry shampoo; those things, those memories, were what she lived on when she had to be away from one or both of her girls.

The assistant's eyes soaked in the decor of the home. She never got tired of seeing it each night. She had witnessed firsthand how demanding her boss could be, yet she respected her for it, and watched the woman closely in hopes of learning everything that she could because she hoped to have a position like hers in the future. Perhaps it was her imagination, but it seemed that Miranda had come to respect her, too. She had gained a promotion to senior assistant within months of being hired, a feat that the veteran _Runway_ employees assured her was a record.

Caroline immediately relaxed when she felt her mother's arms around her. The scent she loved most in the world- the scent of her mother's perfume- filled her senses as she rested her head against Miranda's shoulder. Though it was slightly awkward trying to fit in her mother's lap, since she was eleven years old, she knew that there was no place she would rather be.

Miranda held her daughter tightly. Her manicured hand tentatively began to rub Caroline's back. Her daughters had always told her that they loved her, and appeared to think that she was a satisfactory mother, but she questioned her own abilities then. How could she be the kind of mother her girls deserved when she didn't seem to be capable of even soothing one of them without feeling inexperienced at the task and unsure of herself?

After a minute, Miranda's touch became more confident. This was her Caroline. While was undoubtedly not perfect at being a mother, that did not change the fact that she was Caroline's mother. She was unable to be completely involved in her daughters' lives because her own life was so busy, but she tried her hardest to be there for them whenever possible.

Miranda rested her cheek against her daughter's feverish one so that Caroline would not see the tears that stung her eyes. Caroline was not shivering as violently as before, but her pallid skin was just as hot as it had been. It appeared that her daughter needed medical attention. She would try to call her husband one more time. If she couldn't reach him, she would have to wake up Caroline's twin sister, Cassidy, and take both of the girls with her to the hospital.

As she always did, Miranda's assistant placed the Book carefully on a table in the foyer with flowers sitting on it. Her employer had no dry cleaning that needed to be returned that night, so she slowly turned in a complete circle, a ritual that she had started soon after she first began coming to the house, to take in her surroundings one last time before she left.

"You knew it was me," Caroline whispered drowsily, breaking through her mother's thoughts.

"What do you mean?" Miranda had managed to blink away her tears by then, and pulled away from Caroline slightly so she could look at her, raising an eyebrow in confusion.

"You knew it was me. Before you saw me. You knew it was me, even though you only heard my voice," the girl explained.

"Of course I knew that it was you, Caroline."

"How? No one else can tell me apart from Cassidy. Grandmother and Grandfather can't. None of our nannies or teachers are ever able to. We've even tricked daddy before."

"I'm not exactly sure, darling. I suppose it's because I'm your mother that I can tell you and your sister apart so easily."

The assistant heard the murmur of voices coming from the living room as she finished her slow motion spin. The young woman recognized the voices as that of her boss and one of her boss' daughters. Yet, she frowned slightly in confusion as she heard them talking. Her boss was speaking in tones she had never heard before. A gentler, warmer voice than the one she was used to floated from the next room as the woman addressed her daughter. She edged closer to the room, curious about what they were saying.

Miranda hung up her cell phone. Her husband still wasn't answering. "Darling, are you feeling any better now?"

Caroline shook her head and looked down at her hands. "No. I'm sorry, mother."

Caroline was surprised when her mother reached forward to touch her shoulder, prompting her to look back up. "It's not your fault that you're not feeling well, Caroline. There's no need for you to apologize. I was only asking because I love you and I want you to feel better."

Caroline beamed. "I love you too, mother. Thank you for taking care of me. I like it when you do."

Miranda adjusted the blanket around her daughter's shoulders as a smile played over her lips. "Well, I enjoy taking care of you and your sister like this," she said. "I'm afraid that I'm not being much help to you now, though. I think I should wake up Cassidy so we can both take you to the hospital."

Caroline nodded in understanding.

The assistant began to back up from where she had been listening at the doorway when she heard the two in the next room getting up from the couch. She would have to leave quickly before anyone saw her, or else her job would be on the line. She had heard stories about what happened to people who accidentally invaded Miranda Priestly's privacy.

Unfortunately, she wasn't able to make as smooth an exit as she had hoped to. The assistant caught the heel of her stiletto on the plush rug in the foyer as she stepped backwards. She was able to regain her balance quickly, but not before her purse slipped from her fingers and fell on the floor, it's contents clattering out noisily on to the part of the marble floor that was not covered by the rug.

Time seemed to stop as two pairs of eyes turned towards the doorway. The assistant slowly came forward to collect her belongings, shoving them back in her bag quickly once she bent to pick them up. She felt their eyes on her; the questioning gaze of the girl and the burning glare of her mother. "I'm sorry, Miranda," she said softly. She forced herself to maintain her composure while she briefly met the older woman's eyes for the first time. Her employer's piercing blue eyes held her gaze until she was forced to look away. The young woman stood back up and started to scramble for the door.

"Sarah?"

The color slowly drained from the young woman's countenance as she turned back around to face her employer. Her job was gone- she was certain of that. There was no way to save face. She had seen too much, and she would undoubtedly be punished for her blunder. "Yes?" she whispered.

Miranda continued to stare at her assistant. The girl held her gaze, refusing to allow herself to be humiliated further. Maybe she would be asked to leave her job, but she wanted to leave knowing that her boss still had some respect for her.

Amazingly, it was Miranda who lowered her eyes first that time. The woman's eyes darted briefly to her daughter. She sighed, and looked back at her assistant with a nervous, almost pleading, expression. "I . . . I need to ask a favor." She paused briefly, waiting for the other woman's reaction, but her assistant simply stared back in shock. "Caroline is sick," Miranda continued. "I can't get in touch with my husband. I need to take her to the hospital, but Cassidy is sleeping. I hate to disturb her, especially since the girls have school tomorrow. Could you stay here with Cassidy?"

The young woman named Sarah stood speechless in the doorway.

"Well? Have you gone mute? I'd like an answer sometime tonight." While Miranda's harsh words to her assistant were typical, the forced, halfhearted way they were spoken was abnormal enough to draw the young woman's attention.

"Yes. I'll stay here with Cassidy," Sarah finally managed to stammer. Her eyes were still wide with surprise. What was happening? Was this some kind of joke, or a punishment for her eavesdropping, or did Miranda simply truly need her help?

"Good. Go up to the third floor. Cassidy's room is the second door on the right. Stay in the guest room next door to Cassidy's room and listen out for her. The bathroom is across the hall from the guest room. I trust that you'll confine your time here to those rooms. Take care not to trip over anything else. See yourself out once my husband returns home. 

That's all." Even Miranda's signature statement sounded hollow on that night.

Miranda and Caroline donned their coats, leaving Sarah standing alone in the middle of the foyer once they left for the hospital. She remained rooted to the spot for several minutes even after the house was empty. She became aware that her breathing was labored, as if she had just surfaced after spending a considerable time underwater. Finally, she managed to move forward, and climb the winding staircase to the third floor of the townhouse.

Sarah peeked in Cassidy's room to find that the girl was still sleeping, so she went to the guest room to collapse on the bed there, where she laid staring at the ornate ceiling for several minutes in an attempt to relax. It wasn't too long before she got bored with that, and began to survey the room. While Miranda had made it clear that she was not to explore the rest of the house, her boss had not mentioned whether or not she could look 

around the guest room.

Sarah wondered over to the desk in the corner of the room and carefully slid open one of its drawers. Inside was a pad of paper and a pen, as well as several magazines, whose mastheads boasted the names of _Runway's_ foremost competitors. Curious, Sarah took out a copy of _Vogue_ and began to look through it. She soon realized why Miranda had the other fashion magazines.

A familiar handwriting in black ink covered many of the pages of the publication, detailing changes that Miranda would have made had she been editing the magazine. There were also other notes in the margins; ideas for layouts, names of photographers or models Miranda was interested in, and criticisms of the feature pieces. The young woman's eyes poured over the words, eager to read her boss' opinions. She took the magazines from the drawer and went back to the bed, where she settled against the soft pillows. There, she immersed herself in the magazines for over an hour as she grew increasingly tired.

"You're home. How is she?"

Sarah shot up from where she had been laying asleep on the bed at the sound of the voices coming from the hallway. She smoothly made her way over to the desk and shoved the magazines back inside.

"Thank you for waiting up for me. Caroline is going to be fine. I just put her to bed. She has a mild case of the flu. The doctor gave her some medication to take for it, so hopefully she'll be feeling better soon."

"That's good. Are you alright, Miranda? You look shaken."

Sarah crossed the room and cautiously peered out from behind the door, which was closed most of the way, to see Miranda and her husband talking in the hallway.

"Yes. I'm just worried about Caroline. I feel terrible that I didn't realize how ill she was. I'm her mother; I'm supposed to notice things like that. When she came downstairs and said that she didn't feel well, I felt so . . . inadequate . . . like I wasn't fit to be taking care of her. I don't want those girls to feel like I did, Jonathan. I don't want to be a stranger to them, like my parents were to me. I want them to know that they are loved and that I'll always be there for them when they need me."

The man wrapped his arms around Miranda from behind. "My dear, your daughters know you love them, and it's obvious that they love you, too. You are involved in their lives; you support them whenever you can when you go to one of Caroline's dance recitals or Cassidy's horse shows. You said Caroline was the one who came looking for you, right?"

"Yes."

"Then she obviously believed that you would provide suitable consolation. She went to you, Miranda; you weren't the one to seek her out. She wanted you to comfort her when she was feeling bad. That must mean something."

Miranda turned her head slightly so she could look at her husband. Her expression softened. "That is true."

He took her arm. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

"Go ahead," Miranda replied. "I'll be there in a minute. I'm going to check on the girls one more time."

Once the two had disappeared into the respective rooms, Sarah made her way downstairs and out the front door as quickly as possible. She took a taxi back to her home, and promptly fell in bed, where tears of worry and exhaustion streamed down her face until she drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Sarah entered _Runway's _offices apprehensively. Though Miranda hadn't voiced any displeasure at her presence the night before, the assistant feared that her job might still be trouble. She was surprised to find that the lights were already on in Miranda's office, as well as the lights over the two assistants' desks. She didn't see anyone 

else around, so she sat at her desk to collect herself.

"Sarah?" The voice, along with a flash of sudden movement, captured her attention. Miranda was standing in the doorway of her office. Though her appearance was impeccable, as it normally was, there was something different in her demeanor. "I've left the papers on your desk for you to sign."

The assistant glanced down at her desk and noticed several documents laying there for the first time. She sucked in her breath. So she had been right. She was being asked to resign. "Miranda, is there anything I can do to change this?"

"Why would you want to do that? Most people would appreciate the opportunity."

"The _opportunity_? What do you mean?"

"It would be a good opportunity for you. You want a career in journalism, don't you? You've handled your job as my assistant well. You have a good eye for fashion, especially for someone so young. The samples in the portfolio you gave me when I hired you show that you're an adequate writer. All of that helped me to make my decision."

"I don't think I understand."

"Just read the papers," Miranda prompted with an impatient sigh. "They'll make things clearer. All I ask is that you remember what I did for you before you ever speak about anything you might have seen or heard last night. I want my personal life kept personal. That's all."

Miranda disappeared back into her office and Sarah began to read the papers in front of her. Soon, the expression of confusion left her face. She had not been asked to resign. She had been offered a promotion.

FIN


End file.
